Mountain Ice (David Dean Mysteries)

Fred had taken care of the early morning chores as Dean poured himself his first cup of coffee, dreading the inquisition he knew would be forthcoming from the old man. Fred couldn't resist a mystery and here was a riddle on-site. The ever-present list and pencil were poised on the kitchen counter, as if ready for action. But Fred was being unusually patient. He held his conversation to mundane chit-chat.

He informed Dean the climbers, who were due to check out later, had left for the ice park, grumbling at the heavy accumulation of snow which was abating to a last-ditch flurry after depositing thirty inches of fluffy white. Gladys Turnbull was sleeping late, as usual. She was the sole guest remaining in the building as the sisters were off for a Sunday tour of the town. Claire had informed Fred she and Effie would be leaving Tuesday. It was the first words spoken to him by the sharp-tongued woman since the prior Tuesday evening when she'd first purchased the letters.

"If she knows the true story about Annie, she's sure keeping it to herself," Fred muttered as he stacked the breakfast dishes. Dean knew the old man was itching to raise the more important topic of Jerome Shipton's death. He could read Fred like a book-start the conversation with a few benign topics, then ease in. "Looks like it's going to be a mite empty around here in the next few days," Fred continued as he began washing the plates.

"I can use all the peace the good Lord can offer," Dean answered, as toast popped up in a puff of smoke. "Did you set this toaster to 'black' again?"

Fred ignored the question and sat at the table, his patience expired. "The way I see it, we best get ourselves involved in setting this Shipton business straight. If you don't come up with some answers, you're going to find the police at our door, asking you some pretty pointed questions. And when I say police, I don't just mean Jake Weller."

Much as Dean hoped otherwise, he couldn't disagree with Fred. During the night, he'd turned the matter over in his mind, and kept coming back to the fact that someone from Bird Song had killed Shipton and any objective viewer would be taking a long and hard look at David Dean as that person. "This is still Weller's case," he replied. His statement did nothing to slow Fred down.

"There's no doubt in my mind it's the wife who did him in," the old man continued. "It's the only solution that makes sense. I made this here list of everyone I figured who could have done it, and Edith Shipton is right on top."